


Modern Love

by nimiumcaelo



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, POV First Person, POV Nick, the morning before Jay dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 19:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13666134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimiumcaelo/pseuds/nimiumcaelo
Summary: Title taken from Keats' poem of the same name."And what is love? It is a doll dress’d upFor idleness to cosset, nurse, and dandle;A thing of soft misnomers, so divineThat silly youth doth think to make itselfDivine by loving, and so goes on. . .Fools! make me whole again that weighty pearlThe Queen of Egypt melted, and I’ll sayThat ye may love in spite of beaver hats."





	Modern Love

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my old tumblr [here](https://teaandfeelings.tumblr.com/post/159093065586/natsby-06).

We’re standing on his balcony and the sun is rising with a muted parade of oranges and pinks. I’ve been attempting small talk for the past several hours to help calm his nerves, though I don’t think it’s done much. There’s a tenseness about his shoulders that bleeds into his eyes and I wish I could do something to make it dissipate - make him smile again. He hasn’t smiled all night. I want to reach over and touch him, lay a hand on his shoulder - perhaps even on his cheek - and tell him everything will work out. 

But that isn’t true and I wouldn’t - couldn’t - tell him falsehoods just to have them come thundering down like a wall made of water. That’s all anyone’s done to him and I won’t let it happen again. He’s beautiful, with the rays of sunshine fresh off of Apollo’s chariot dancing in his hair, creating a shadow beside his nose. He’s looking for her now; I can see the strain it creates in the planes of his face. I can’t stand this feeling of half-assed camaraderie much longer. I suggest leaving, with some excuse about work. He puts a hand on my forearm and asks me to stay, just a little while longer. I can’t refuse him, never could. I’ll miss my train.

I don’t care.


End file.
